


can't leave you anywhere

by kaermorons



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is So Done, Light Bondage, M/M, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:13:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24619651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaermorons/pseuds/kaermorons
Summary: Jaskier can't stay put despite Geralt's best efforts.Five times Geralt tried to get Jaskier to stay put during a hunt and one time Jaskier suggests a solution.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 19
Kudos: 218





	can't leave you anywhere

1.

Jaskier was proving to be a difficult creature to coexist with.

Perhaps coexist was too strong a word to use when describing the nature of living near the bard. He was incessantly curious, poked his nose where it really had no business of being, and on top of it all, he was admittedly too handsome for his own good. Geralt had been around for a very, very long time, and had seen very, very many faces over the years, but Jaskier held that once-in-a-generation spark that shone through his very skin, and bled life wherever he walked. The sheer amount of trouble he got himself into should have been warning enough to Geralt. The bard was hard to dissuade from most things, and for all he whined that Geralt never spoke, he certainly never listened when he did.

“It’s a cockatrice.” Geralt announced upon return to their room, to get ready for the ensuing hunt.

“That’s a lewd name for a creature.” Jaskier said, waggling his eyebrows.

“Takes one to know one, doesn’t it?” Geralt muttered, finding the small vial of Basilisk’s Bane at the bottom of his bag. He was nursing an injury from the previous hunt and didn’t want to risk being poisoned on top of it all. He wanted this hunt to go quickly.

Jaskier squawked. “I take offense to that, Geralt!” he protested, rising from his chair like he was going to approach the man. “For that, you have to let me come.”

“No. Its poison will affect you in a minute flat if you even get a drop of it on you.” Geralt grunted, oiling his sword dutifully, all practiced movements.

“You didn’t let me go last time!” Jaskier whined. “When you fought the...the…”

“Foglets.” Geralt finished. “And that’s because there were twenty more than the alderman had told me there would be. I knew he was lying about the infestation.” He was getting used to explaining his actions, but Jaskier’s dogged tenacity to follow him to Death’s door was a bit more difficult to get familiar with.

Difficult. There’s that word again.

“Well you said it’s  _ a _ cockawhoozy.” Geralt rolled his eyes.

“Cockatrice. And one cockatrice is definitely enough to kill you faster than a few dozen necrophages.”

“Yes, well how will I  _ understand _ the danger if you don’t let me go with you? Don’t you want me to help write the ballad of your courageous victory over this perverse creature and warn others of its killing prowess?”

“It’s not lewd, Jaskier. You’re the only lewd thing in this town.” Geralt finished oiling the sword and sheathed it before checking his armor and other supplies. He had a few all-purpose venom antidotes if he needed them, but he hoped the damned thing would just cooperate and die.

“Well how would I know that? I’ve never seen one!” Jaskier argued.

“Most humans don’t see them and live to tell about it.” Geralt snapped. He rose from his seat. “Listen. If I tell you why they’re called cockatrices will you just. Stay here?”

“You’re going to have to do better than that, Geralt.” Jaskier crossed his arms.

Geralt growled a little, turning to the door. He put his hand on the handle before pausing, turning. “I’ll let you ride Roach to the next contract.”

“Deal.” Jaskier said, breathless.

“Stay. Here.” Geralt left after that.

Witchers don’t often regret things. Life is too long to continually think of how you’d do things differently. Geralt found himself regretting a great many things as he stalked through the dense brush of the forest towards the last attack site.

He regretted promising Jaskier a ride on Roach. Roach would never forgive him. He regretted even believing Jaskier would keep his end of the deal. He regretted letting Jaskier even follow him around, amplifying his every action and contract like the moon itself only shone on him in the darkest night. It was, however, nicer to be called the White Wolf than it was to be called the Butcher everywhere he went.

So distracted was he as he followed the cockatrice’s trail that he hardly heard the overly-cautious steps of a bard hell-bent on walking his way through Temeria.

The cockatrice had left the corpse of the last unfortunate victim along the path, only after it had cleaned the flesh from its bones. Poor peasant. Geralt shook his head and continued on, straining his ears for any sign of the beast.

It appeared with a great cry, all its murderous intent on Geralt. He unsheathed the oiled silver sword and leapt into battle. His ears were still ringing with the thing’s horrendous crowing by the time he sliced its head off.

“Whoa.” Geralt whirled, ready to fight whoever else had shown up. It was Jaskier. Of course it was Jaskier. “It’s like a...lizard chicken!” Geralt watched with bewilderment as Jaskier approached the slayed cockatrice.

“I distinctly remember telling you to stay at the inn.” Geralt barked. Jaskier did not jump, did not flinch. Geralt may as well have not spoken.

“Can’t rhyme a lot with lizard  _ or _ chicken,” he said, sounding disappointed. “Geralt, this thing is ugly!”

“Be grateful I’m not contracted to kill things that annoy me.” Geralt huffed, walking away with his trophy in hand. Fucking bard.

* * *

2.

“Witcher! Witcher!” a frantic voice called up the road. Geralt stopped Roach and turned his head. Jaskier even stopped his inane babble for once. A poor-looking villager was heading from the direction they were heading, and he was drenched in fear and sweat.

“Good man, what work have you for the Witcher, Geralt of—” Jaskier was cut off as the man approached.

“There’s three trolls destroying our farm! You have to help!” the man wailed. Jaskier was giving him that ‘remember what we talked about: sympathy’ look again, and with a growl, Geralt said his price isn’t free. “I know, we will pay ye back, just come quick!”

“Where?” Geralt said, adjusting his riding stance so he could push Roach into a canter as quickly as possible.

“Just up the road, it’s on the left side. Farm with three trolls tearing it from the earth!”

“Jaskier, stay with him.” Geralt snapped. Jaskier’s pleased face at Geralt’s readiness to aid the man dropped.

“That’s not fair!” Jaskier shouted.

“Stay with the farmer or I’ll kill you too as collateral damage.” Geralt unsheathed his sword to punctuate his threat as he pushed Roach on, quickly.

The trolls were still in the thick of things, but had luckily not damaged much of the farm by the time Geralt got there, a scant minute after the man had directed him. He jumped from Roach into a roll and approached, hitting the trolls with Aard to get them out of the crops. They roared angrily as they sat up.

“Now that wasn’t nice!”

“No it wasn’t nice!”

“I just said that!”

“No I said it!”

Geralt watched the trolls argue with one another, wincing. He held his sword aloft and cast Axii on the two arguing trolls. They went lax and pliant, looking at him with a seemingly more dumb expression. “Lay down.” Geralt suggested, and they did.

After ending these trolls, he focused on the third, hitting him with Aard again before slashing him in the knees to keep him from getting up. Geralt ducked under a wild haymaker and jammed his sword up under the troll’s armpit, piercing through the heart with accuracy.

No sooner had the troll hit the ground with a loud  _ thud _ was there another noise coming from nearby.

“I’ve never seen you do the—the woowoo on em before.” Jaskier panted, doubled over. He must have ran the entire way here. Geralt frowned and sighed.

“Next time I’ll use it on you. Why can’t you stay where I tell you?”

Jaskier approached the trolls. “Wow...these are uglier than the dickatrice!”

Geralt didn’t bother correcting him.

* * *

3.

He realized he had to be a bit smarter about keeping Jaskier contained, especially when they were camping out in the forest between towns. They’d just sat down to eat dinner when Geralt picked up on something heavy moving through the trees. He stood, putting his food to the side. “There’s something out there.” Geralt said, more to himself. He grabbed his steel sword, just in case. Whatever it was, it was probably hungry and smelled their food. He cursed at himself. He should have scouted better.

At Jaskier’s proud march behind him, Geralt growled and turned on him, surprising him back a few steps. “I hardly let you on hunts with me when I know what I’m up against, why would I let you go with me when I have no idea what’s out there?”

“That was exactly the argument I was going to make! You never let me see you surprised!” Jaskier pouted. He really was too attractive for his own good. Geralt would have ceded had it been just about anything else Jaskier was asking for, but the danger could have been anything from a wolf to a griffin. That was too wide a spectrum to possibly allow Jaskier along.

“No.” Geralt said, walking him back. “You need to stay in the camp while I go get rid of it. It won’t get near the fire.” Jaskier nearly stumbled over a root, and Geralt made his strike, pulling him up by his elbow and pinning him to a tree. It wasn’t hard enough of a shove to hurt, but he did knock the wind out of the bard for long enough that Geralt could unsheathe a long, sharp knife.

Jaskier’s eyes went wide with fear for a split second before they turned to indignant anger. “What are you gonna do, stab me?” he bellowed, before Geralt stabbed—

Into the tree, just under Jaskier’s armpit. The blade easily cut through the fabric of Jaskier’s doublet and chemise, pinning him to the tree securely. Geralt took a step back to observe his work. It’d do while he investigated. The knife was too high up for Jaskier to get any real leverage from it, and even if he did get leverage on it, he would risk ruining his clothes even more than Geralt already had.

“You—” Jaskier sounded breathless as he voiced his rage. “You’re mending that! You’re paying for mending that and you’re—don’t you walk away from me, you fucking— _ Witcher!” _

Geralt grinned to himself as he walked out into the forest.

It was a bear, pawing through some berry bushes absentmindedly. By Geralt’s observation, it was a mother bear, trying to gather berries for her cubs. The heart he denied could feel twisted at the thought of orphaning the small bears back at her den. He lowered his sword and concentrated. Using Axii on animals was different than using it on humans or sentient monsters. He had to simplify his commands and thoughts, no words, just urges and feelings.

_ No food here. _

A few tense seconds passed before the bear ambled away, in the opposite direction of their camp. The magic would carry for at least the night, Geralt was sure. They’d have to break camp early in the morning.

“You can woowoo a bear?” Jaskier whispered from his side. Geralt would maintain to his dying day that he did  _ not _ jump. He turned to his errant bard.

Jaskier had seemingly outwitted the knife, and stood beside Geralt in nothing but his trousers and boots. With his hands on his hips, a rather proud look on his face, he held the same boyish haughtiness Geralt once had, decades ago at Kaer Morhen. He stood in silence as he observed Jaskier. How had he even followed him here? It was well past sundown, and the forests were pitch-black to any human out here.

“Your hair makes it especially easy to follow you, you know.” Jaskier said, as if reading Geralt’s mind. Geralt frowned as those eyes turned on him, pupils dilated in the dark.

“Next time I’ll leave on Roach. See how well you follow me then.” Geralt grumbled, turning back to the campsite.

He needed to buy camping supplies in the next town.

* * *

4.

Geralt felt stupid about his wild plan. He felt really, really stupid buying all that nonsense. To his credit, he was at the end of his rope, and the bard hadn’t shown fear or self-preservation in the face of a bear, a cockatrice, or angry husbands of the Continent. He had to do something.

If anything, his purchases calmed him down just a little bit. He knew he could use them whenever he really,  _ really _ needed Jaskier to stay put. There was no way he could get out of this trap if he tried.

Truth be told, Geralt was just a little bit excited to see how Jaskier would look.

The opportunity for it came when there was a contract for an earth elemental deep in the Mahakam mountain range. Jaskier had whined the entire three-day hike into the canyon, but Geralt had not calmed him with platitudes of the peace they’d have after the sizeable bounty was claimed. His mind was elsewhere.

The evening of Geralt’s hunt, he tried to reason with the bard. “Jaskier, an elemental in any form is more dangerous than you can possibly anticipate. Earth elementals can hurl boulders larger than I am and can shake the earth under your feet until you can’t tell which way is up or down. Please. Stay. Here.”

He didn’t know what he was expecting. “You know I’ve felt an earthquake before. I did live in Kerack for most of my life.” He shrugged off mortal danger as one would shrug off a light rain. “Is it true they glow?”

Geralt sighed. “You leave me with no choice.”

Casting Somne as quickly as he could, Jaskier collapsed in his arms, a warm weight against him. A ruthlessly passionate part of Geralt’s brain screamed in triumph that he had Jaskier in his arms at all, but the logical part of his brain put that other part in a chokehold until it passed out as unconscious as Jaskier himself. Geralt quickly got to work, arranging Jaskier on the hard dirt as he nailed in tent spikes deep into the earth. He’d hear no end of whining about the damage to Jaskier’s clothes, but at least the bard would be safe here, and not in an earth elemental’s throwing range.

Jaskier was now spread-eagled on the ground, hidden by a taller cropping of rocks near their camp. Even if Jaskier awoke before the usual twenty-minute limit of Somne, he’d be confused and disoriented enough that he wouldn’t know where to go. Satisfied by his efforts, Geralt patted himself on the back and walked into the elemental’s cave with a smile on his face. Jaskier wasn’t going anywhere.

The earth elemental was almost successful in knocking him out and killing him. As it was, he was definitely suffering from a concussion as he stumbled back from the killing blow he’d aimed at the creature’s head. “Fuck.” Geralt muttered.

A pouty voice answered. “Aw, it doesn’t glow!”

“Jaskier!” Geralt shouted exasperatedly. He turned to the man, but the fog the concussion had brought forth had him swimming before his eyes.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, there,” Jaskier said. “Hey, Geralt, let’s get you back to camp. You don’t look so good.” Warm arms wrapped around Geralt’s body and hoisted him back up onto two feet from where he’d been leaning against the cave wall. It took a few minutes of walking for Geralt to realize why Jaskier felt so damn warm.

“Y’r naked.” Geralt muttered, astonishment coloring his voice.

“Yes, well,  _ someone _ decided my clothes would look better nailed into the dirt, so I had to make do.” Jaskier said, grunting as he corrected Geralt from listing to the side.

“Naked Jaskier…” Geralt laughed. He honest-to-gods  _ laughed. _ Jaskier adjusted his grip and almost tripped at the noise.

“Yes, well. I’m quite the adept stripper when I need to be.” Geralt leaned his body toward Jaskier, marveling in the softness of his shoulder and the scent of his skin.

“Aw, you stripped for me?” Geralt laughed at his own joke again. He really needed to rest.

“Geralt, you need only ask for such a thing.” Jaskier said, his voice shaking a bit though they walked over a relatively stable trail. Geralt didn’t make this observation until later, of course. “I’d do many things if you’d only ask.”

“Stay behind. Don’t get hurt.”

“Well. I said many things, not anything.”

* * *

5.

The more Geralt lost sleep over different ideas that could possibly keep Jaskier from following him into battle, the more he thought about the concept of rope. Years and years ago, he’d gone to a brothel that had specialized in the weirder, darker parts of pleasure. He remembered spending a night with his hand down his trousers just watching an hours-long demonstration of the beautiful patterns that could be crafted through soft ropes on a body. The memory of the smooth black rope criss-crossing a woman’s pale skin haunted his dreams of late.

Aside from the general beauty of the entire act, Geralt knew, logically, that the woman could not have possibly gotten free of those bonds. He announced to Jaskier he was heading out for an evening while passing through the same town that the brothel had been in. A quick chat with the man who’d taught the ‘lesson’ left him with very detailed instructions on how to best truss up another person. His leg burned where the long length of rope he’d bought sat inside a pocket.

Just like the camping stakes, he knew that this wasn’t something he’d need to do unless he really,  _ really _ needed to make sure Jaskier was staying in place. Geralt wasn’t sure Jaskier would forgive him if push ever came to shove and he had to use the rope, but he was at least sure Jaskier wouldn’t go anywhere once he did tie him up. The instructions the bawd had given him echoed with every single heartbeat.

They went through over a dozen hunts before they even came across a beast that would warrant more than a stern warning. It was some sort of wraith, one that fed on men about the same age Jaskier was. The thought of seeing Jaskier as another one of those pale, blood-drained victims left a cold knot of dread in Geralt’s gut.

“Jaskier.” Geralt said softly, keeping his hand in his pocket. His fingers played with the length of smooth rope. It was soft, but not as soft as Jaskier. Geralt hoped it wouldn’t hurt him when he used it. “I’m...I’m asking you. To stay here.” Why his voice shook, Geralt did not know.

Jaskier looked up from where he was writing in his journal, blinking in surprise. He must have been deep in thought. Geralt could have slipped away right then and there without Jaskier noticing, but he needed Jaskier to know the danger of following him out there.

“Why?” Jaskier asked, closing his book on his pencil. He looked determined to argue whatever Geralt said, no matter what excuse he gave.

“You’ve seen the bodies.” Geralt said gently. “You know what this thing could do.”

“I could help.” Jaskier insisted, eyeing his boots across the room. Geralt stood in front of them, preventing his escape. Jaskier would follow barefoot if need be, he knew. He’d done it before, with the earth elemental. “What if you get hurt? I’ve helped you before.” He craned his neck around, and Geralt got a flash, an image of black rope over pale, soft skin, squeezing just so. He shook his head of the thought.

“Jaskier you know I have methods of keeping you here that you won’t like.” Geralt ground out, voice suddenly rough from thinking about the intensely erotic memory.

“You could sully a hundred doublets of mine and I would still follow you, Witcher.” Jaskier said, standing before him. With his thick boots on and Jaskier barefoot, Geralt towered several inches above the other’s head. “I promise you.”

“Fine.” Geralt grunted, steeling his jaw as he pulled the rope out from his pocket. Jaskier’s eyes went wide as plates before Geralt stuffed the gag into his mouth, securing it with superhuman speed. Geralt wrestled the man to the ground, using the element of surprise to get him into position. Jaskier writhed and kicked as Geralt wrapped loops around him, securing his arms behind his back, crossed together. His legs were each bent at the knee and tied that way, until it was impossible for Jaskier to move.

Geralt’s blood was boiling as he remembered to tuck a few fingers beneath each cross, pulling so Jaskier had room to breathe and shift. The gag was nearly spit out several times, but Geralt was more focused, and faster. Soon, Jaskier was trussed up like a bird at a feast. With one easy move, Geralt lifted him up onto the bed, letting him bounce against the mattress. He fought to control his breathing.

Jaskier let out a strange high-pitched noise, eyes fluttering closed. Geralt could not smell distress or fear in the air, so he didn’t make any move to untie him.

“You stay here.” Geralt rasped. He nearly stumbled out the door and down the steps of the inn they were staying at.

Geralt walked into the forest where the wraith had been killing the men. He looked around for any sign of what could have inspired the wraith’s wrath, any grave disturbed, any bones. He came upon a crumbled, burnt-out cabin about a half-mile in. With a shot of Igni at a small wood pile near the front, he could better see his surroundings. It looked like any hermit’s cabin, abandoned after its inhabitant’s death, perhaps.

He unsheathed his sword, ready to cast Yrden at a moment’s notice. The air was colder inside the cabin, and stunk of blood, old and new. The wraith had been busy. He hadn’t managed to get anything out of the townspeople about the incidents, but from what he could gather, each of the young victims were troublemakers, starting fights and pulling pranks around town.

After an hour of waiting for nothing, Geralt remembered an old spell Vesemir had taught them. He never thought to use it, as wraiths never seemed particularly unwilling to show themselves. Perhaps he was too old to trigger its ire.

_ “I’mir’ a the, saov a glan.” _ Geralt said to the house.

It worked almost instantly, a scream of pain ripping through the very foundations he stood upon. He readied his sword and his spell-casting hand, already formed into Yrden’s sign. His eyes scanned his surroundings for a few hard moments before he caught the scent of a human.

It wasn’t just any human, because Jaskier would take offense to that description. Geralt rushed out of the house a split second before Jaskier burst through the underbrush, looking disheveled and flushed. “Geralt!” he gasped, bending over to suck air back into his lungs. “You—”

“Jaskier, look out!” The wraith appeared with another horrible scream, swinging a club at Jaskier. The bard ducked to the ground, covering his head with the back of his hands. “Roll!” Geralt shouted, casting Yrden as soon as Jaskier was clear. The violet light that surrounded the horrible wraith only accentuated its dead features.

“Geralt, I—” Jaskier said, getting to his feet.

“Don’t. Look for bones, anything that looks like it’s important.” Geralt said, lunging at the wraith and swinging his silver sword at its torso. The wraith shrieked as Jaskier slipped into the house on nimble feet. The fool was still barefoot. Geralt took another swing before the wraith could club him. It only served to anger the wraith further, its movements growing erratic and unpredictable. Geralt grunted as he stood on the defensive, blocking blows as best he could. He kept his focus on Yrden as long as he could.

Jaskier burst out of the house. “Does a trunk of letters count?” he said, holding a charred box in his arms.

“Let’s hope so.” Geralt shouted as the wraith hit his shoulder, and in a flare of anger and adrenaline, he swept his sword in a swift upward arc, slashing straight through the wraith. It disappeared in a screaming cloud of dust. Geralt disarmed the Yrden circle and stumbled backward. Jaskier put the box on the ground and took a half-flaming log from the pile Geralt had cast Igni on. He gently lowered the log to the open box, and the old, delicate letters went up in an instant. From inside the house, a last long shriek signaled the demise of the wraith.

Geralt fell to his ass, exhausted from the surge of emotions he’d been dealing with that evening. Jaskier joined him, watching it all burn from right beside him. They were quiet for a long moment before Geralt spoke.

“How the fuck did you get out of the ropes?”

“Geralt, I’m adept at many more bedroom activities besides stripping.” He tried to hide his grin, but they were soon both laughing, just enjoying the warmth of the fire together. “I’d like to show you, if you’d be amenable.”

The hot, dark gaze they shared left no doubt to how amenable Geralt was to that idea.

* * *

+1.

A few months after the wraith-and-rope incident, Geralt found himself with another cockatrice contract. Knowing Jaskier would be following him left Geralt seemingly more unsettled than thinking Jaskier was safe, sitting back at wherever Geralt had left him. And he’d been good, so good the last few months, actually listening to Geralt and staying put.

It also was most likely due to the fact Geralt had the tendency to fuck Jaskier out of his mind before heading out to hunt. Most likely.

Geralt needed his energy for the hunt, though, so he had to think smarter about how to get Jaskier to stay. Bribery had at least been something he’d accepted in the past, even for a while. If Geralt was quick, he’d be able to get the hunt out of the way and back in time for dinner. Of course, this all rode on Jaskier actually staying put for an evening.

He went into the room and began to gather his things, still lost in thoughts of how he’d properly persuade an Oxenfurt-educated bard. Debate was one of the seven liberal arts Jaskier had proven himself master of, time and again. Geralt looked at the door, no closer to a solution than he was when he’d walked in.

Jaskier cleared his throat. “You’re thinking of how to get me to stay put.”

“What gave it away?” Geralt asked, accepting the bard as he crawled into his lap.

“Oh, I just know you.” Jaskier smiled, pushing a stray white hair out of Geralt’s eyes. They sat there in silence for a minute before Jaskier spoke again. “I had...an idea.”

“Oh, don’t hurt yourself with those, Jaskier.” Geralt chuckled, holding his bard closer. Jaskier rolled his eyes, but still smiled.

“If you...offered something...that would  _ entice _ me to stay…”

“I’ve tried that before.” Geralt shook his head. “You still followed me.”

“Well, what if I promised extra, extra nicely?” The grin he gave sent a shiver down the Witcher’s spine.

“You obviously have something in mind.” Geralt said, pushing his face into the crook of Jaskier’s neck. “Why don’t you just tell me so I can say no?”

“I want you to tie me up again.” Jaskier said, breathless. Geralt jolted in surprise; it was the last thing he’d think Jaskier wanted.

“Now? You’ve proven you can get out of the best bonds I know.” Geralt looked in his eyes. Jaskier blushed a little.

“No, not now. When you come back.” Geralt didn’t comment on the fact Jaskier had said  _ you _ instead of  _ we. _ “I promise to wait here all helpless and worried for your entire contract, and you come back and promise to tie me up. Harder to get out of your ropes when you’re watching my every move.”

Geralt’s blood surged with heat as he thought of Jaskier, pale skin covered in black knots and nothing else. He shuddered again and pressed his face into Jaskier’s neck to calm himself down.

“And then we can have our own dickatrice hunt.”

Geralt rolled his eyes and got Jaskier off his lap. He looked out the window, considering it. He’d already said yes when Jaskier had made the suggestion, but was reluctant to voice how easily the bard had wrapped him round his clever fingers.

“And you’ll stay here?” Geralt said, still not looking.

“Cross my heart and may I never sing again.” Jaskier said excitedly, nearly vibrating on the bed.

“Fine. If I even suspect you’re out there with me, or that you’ve been anywhere but this room, I’m nailing you into the dirt again.”

“Ooh, promise?” Jaskier said, lounging out against the headboard. “I’ll be good, I promise.” He even made the motion of tracing his finger in an X over his chest.

“I’ll be back.” Geralt said, stealing a kiss before leaving out the door.

Jaskier stayed put.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated <3
> 
> Elder translation of Geralt's spell is "reveal yourself, dark spirit".
> 
> Come say hi to me on [tumblr](https://kaermorons.tumblr.com/)!


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